But Sire
by lilkyonkyon
Summary: The knights and guards of Camelot are really bad at their jobs. Rated for language. Crack!fic. Oneshot.


Uther must be disappointed so often.

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**But Sire**

Uther cannot believe what he is hearing.

"You mean to tell me that the sorcerer was in the castle all along while I was away?"

Before him, Arthur is doing a fantastic impersonation of a fish. Finally, he manages to splutter out, "But sire, he was in disguise."

"Oh, yes, of course. You're right. He was in disguise… as a _magician_."

"B-but sire… he was scheduled to entertain during the upcoming feast. We haven't seen his spells yet."

"He did not entertain at the feast, I grant you. However, if what I hear from the guards is true, he went each night to the pub and performed tricks there in front of a large audience—an audience that included a large portion of my _men_!" He pounds his fist on the arm rest in agitation, causing half of his guards to nearly leap out of their armour.

His son glances about, shifting from one foot to the other. Uther narrows his eyes. Arthur is never like this, even when he knows he has botched a mission. Things have been worse than he thought while he's been gone.

"Er, the men would have been inebriated if they were there—"

"Silence! You cannot talk your way out of this!"

"But—"

"I said be _silent_!"

Arthur's mouth shuts with an audible _click_.

This is completely off the map. Uther has suspected that his knights were getting a little too comfortable with their surroundings, but when his ward is cursed for three entire days and his _physician_ is the one that makes the rescue, it's downright embarrassing. And it has been happening more and more often of late. Sometimes, even the disastrously-challenged man-servant his son insists on keeping shows more sense than his knights and guards.

With a deep breath, Uther tries to calm himself. "Allow me get the facts straight," he begins again. "This… magician, as he calls himself, arrived at the castle three days ago—"

"Five days ago." Even as Arthur says it, he winces.

"Five days?" Uther blinks as he processes this new piece of information. "The magician arrived here _five_ days ago?" His temples are already throbbing from this new revelation.

"But sire, he did not perform the enchantment on the Lady Morgana until the third day—"

"And yet he had performed magic at the pub every night!"

Arthur grimaces. "As you say."

The king takes in another deep breath, mentally counting to ten. "Yes, as I was saying, the magician arrived _five days ago_"—he glares at his son for good measure—"and stayed in the servants' quarters—"

"He, er, he didn't. Stay. There."

Uther frowns. "Then where did he sleep? The stables?"

"Er, he was down the hall… from me."

"In other words, he would have had to pass, in addition to your room, a number of Camelot's guards before he arrived at Morgana's chambers?"

"But sire, you see—"

"Are you telling me that it has taken you _days_ to find a _magician_ who was hiding _just down the hall_ from your bedch—"

Just then, the warning bells ring, interrupting his tirade. Each knight flinches ever so slightly with every peal of the bells. Arthur visibly gulps.

Displaying an eerie calmness, Uther allows his mouth to close. He then examines each man in turn, all of whom avoid his piercing stare. When he finishes his analysis of the last man, he clears his throat and painstakingly enunciates, "_Are you fucking kidding me_?"

The throne room is thick and silent with shame. Uther honestly doesn't know what to do. The so-called magician had been hiding under his nose the entire time, and the knights and guards that he prides himself on had done absolutely nothing to prevent it. He would have been surprised, but it happens more often than he likes to admit.

A messenger abruptly bursts through the doors. "Sire, the sorcerer has escaped!"

Somehow, the knights manage to look even more humiliated.

"Yes, I came to that conclusion on my own," he seethes at the servant. "What I don't understand is why everyone is standing around. _Find me that man_!" The knights, as one unit, begin to scramble. Over the din of their armour, Uther bellows, "And for fuck's sake, _keep him locked up for more than one goddamn hour_!"

* * *

And yet this happens all the time. You think he'd find himself some better knights. Please review!


End file.
